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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25231840">ふたりで</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuminpa/pseuds/yuminpa'>yuminpa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Hat in Time (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Knives, M/M, Suicide</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:00:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,677</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25231840</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuminpa/pseuds/yuminpa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Conductor/DJ Grooves (A Hat in Time)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>ふたりで</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrainRush/gifts">TrainRush</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blizzardz_uwu/gifts">Blizzardz_uwu</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>not many tags for this one.<br/>i haven't written anything ahit/tct related in a while, have i? sorry.<br/>hyperfixations have been all over the place.<br/>but i'll try to pump out something worth reading for you all again. :)<br/>you all remember necktie*, right?<br/>well.. yeah. enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>...A lot has changed since the Conductor died.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Most of the Express Owls left as soon as Conductor did, only wanting to get back to their unusual science jobs and nothing more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some, however, stayed, grief stricken, much like the Cameraman; or some only stayed solely to comfort their fellow Moon Penguin friends. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They did not decide to meddle with DJ Grooves and his issues. Only the Moon Penguins decided to try and help him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>...And surprisingly, their help worked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Although </span>
  <em>
    <span>the incident</span>
  </em>
  <span> only occurred just a couple of months ago, Grooves seemed as if he was healed almost completely; his flamboyant, bright, positive, optimistic side returning; recording movies, writing scripts, directing as if </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing ever happened </span>
  </em>
  <span>and nobody saw through this pathetic facade. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Nobody. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not even friends or family. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, Grooves was being productive in a time where nobody would have expected him to do so; he was acting </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal </span>
  </em>
  <span>in times such as these and it was great!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Great for the survival of the studio in a whole. He was doing well: managing the bills with such a sudden change and working as if he was just fine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He just always changed the subject when Conductor was mentioned and never stepped foot in his side of the studio again; that was all that changed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Except not really. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the rare times the Moon Penguin was alone, he would sob; endlessly, as quiet as he can, shaking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was barely hanging on, in actuality; he could not handle the bills, he could not handle the sudden change. He could not handle </span>
  <em>
    <span>this. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He could not handle the Conductor being gone like this </span>
  </em>
  <span>and it was eating him up, with everybody else thinking everything was just fine. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was thinking of </span>
  <em>
    <span>leaving this world</span>
  </em>
  <span> to put it lightly. Of course, he protested </span>
  <em>
    <span>against </span>
  </em>
  <span>suicide! He was the type to help friends and family and even strangers alike get out of that dark hole they dug themselves; persuading them that they would get better, there is always a rainbow after a storm, that family and friends and loved ones would miss said person dearly–</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But that did not matter anymore. Nothing did. Eventually, Grooves became the nihilist Conductor always was. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Something he never thought he would become in a million years, but given the current circumstances it was inevitable. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He knew he was going to do it one day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And today was that day. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After scruffily writing down a note, Grooves sighed, setting the note down on the counter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed shakily, scribbling out some parts of said note that did not make much sense or were irrelevant to his point. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could not believe he was doing such a thing after seeming so disgusted and appalled by what Conductor did. He was following in the broken owl’s footsteps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least they were going to be together, right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was sitting in his own storage room sighing. Looking over to his left, he could see a sharp, shiny knife; the one he was going to use to end his own life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked back down at his note, though, examining it. His handwriting scruffy yet neat, his words put together yet scrambled; his mistakes roughly scribbled out so nobody except him could find out what those words said. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It looked fine. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He set it down on the counter, the pen next to the note; not bothering to fold it up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reached into his pocket, grabbing Conductor’s note and reading it for the very last time…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Refusing to spill more tears onto it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After he was done reading that, he set it on the counter right next to his own note, signing, whispering to himself:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I'll be there soon.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Realising what he was doing and why, he began to tremble. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why was he doing this!? He had a studio to run!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He still had movies to record!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The awards were not going to win themselves!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>People were going to miss him!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But he misses the Conductor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So he's going to see him no matter what. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Be with him forever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he knew it, the knife was in his hands, the sharp end pointed at his chest, specifically exactly where his heart was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had done research on this beforehand, before </span>
  <em>
    <span>the incident</span>
  </em>
  <span> for his movies, but he had only remembered said information yesterday and since then realised how beneficial it would be to having a painless end. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was trembling, of course, but he didn't dare whimper or cry or anything of the sort…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was scared to, somehow. Scared to make any noise. Scared to alert anybody of what he was doing just in case they would decide to stop and intervene.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So far, that hasn't been the case. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Good. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled, and whispered;</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you, Connor.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And despite his hesitation, his mind </span>
  <em>
    <span>screaming, crying</span>
  </em>
  <span> for him to stop, he immediately thrust that knife into his chest, feeling a horrid sharp pain for a moment;</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But then he fell forward, the knife digging itself in even more; and then there was nothing but glee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Goodbye, Joshua. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>:)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“DJ Grooves?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A lone Express Owl roamed around the corridors at the basement of the studio, mumbling to himself, hoping Grooves would be able to hear him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Moon Penguins wanted me to get you. I dunno why they couldn't do it themselves, but…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the midst of his rambling, he stopped in the middle of the corridor, ears twitching; confused.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It's silent. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Too </span>
  </em>
  <span>silent. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>What's going on?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He tilted his head, steadily walking on over to the door to Grooves’ storage room, not bothering to look closer into the window; knocking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, you in there? We need you for something!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Knock knock knock. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Could’ve sworn you were in here!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Knock knock knock. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, he decided to open the door, looking around,</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Gr–”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh my fucking god. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first thing he could see was the ground coated in thick, oozing purple; but then he looked up and could see the slumped over DJ Grooves with a knife wedged into his chest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I- a-ah-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The poor owl was scrambling to try and wake Grooves up, obviously to no avail; thinking he was totally fine beforehand!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luckily, he had brought his phone to the short journey to the basement, so he could easily pick up the phone, dial a short number and call the cops </span>
  <em>
    <span>instantly</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So that's what he did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While he waited on their arrival, he noticed an unfolded letter on the counter, and he shakily scrambled over, picked it up and read it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“To whoever finds this note first:</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I'm sorry someone like you had to witness what you witnessed. I bet you're a lovely person, you did not deserve to see me bloody like this. I know. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And I know I seemed fine. Working on our next movie, directing all you lovely penguins without a care in the world. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I wasn’t fine. I was never fine. Honestly, you all should have noticed that. I lost Connor.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>We lost the second half to the studio. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>We lost so much only because of him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I lost a friend. A boyfriend, if you will. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Obviously I wouldn't have been able to cope with a change! A simple ' are you alright ‘ from one of you would have been absolutely amazing. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But why am I blaming you for this?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I'm sorry about this. I'm sorry in general. I'm sorry I couldn't wait to finish our movie, I'm sorry I couldn't witness my third gold award, I'm just…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I don't feel like how Connor did. I don't feel like a pure burden, I'm not a nihilist…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I just...I'm stuck. Completely stuck. Hit a wall, if you will. My motivation, my ideas, they're all gone; I'm struggling financially, I cannot feed myself or anything like that…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Because all my money goes to paying for the studio…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I lost who kept me going..! And with so many loved ones gone, I thought it was my turn to leave, too. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I do not see the point in staying when it does feel like nothing will get better. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So I'm no longer staying. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I'm sorry, Cammie. You were on better terms with Connor, I know, but you seemed like an amazing person and I'm sorry I couldn't stay long enough to get to know you more. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I'm sorry to all of my loyal Moon Penguins that did seemingly nothing but stick with me the whole time. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I love all of you individually. You all helped in your silly, cute, passionate unique ways–</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But I'm rambling. I'm not going to make this letter as long as Connor’s made his, but I feel like I should write about him…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He was a lovely man. A pleasure to meet, a pleasure to know… a pleasure to end up loving in the end. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course, he was sometimes stuck up, selfish, rude, arrogant…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But that was all a facade! He was kind and happy and gentle! You should've seen the video he sent me of him playing with his grandchild haha</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He was lovely, he doesn't deserve to be alone in Heaven so..</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I'm going to see him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I'm sorry. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>All I ask is all of you remember me fondly. Remember Connor fondly. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Remember </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>us </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>fondly. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Because we will remember you fondly. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Okay, I'm rambling, I'm getting tears on the sheet hahaha</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I'll sign off here. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>*</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Eternal love,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Joshua</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(P.S, would it be a stretch to call myself Joshua Forbush? Haha)”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>***</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before the little Express Owl knew it, everyone was crowding downstairs; police, paramedics, Moon Penguins, Cammie—</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Looking around, he squinted;</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no... Redd isn't in that crowd of cops, is he?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Hes not dealing with yet another death from DBS, is he? <br/><br/></em>
</p>
<p><em>He doesn't care. This is blurry. </em><br/>He wants to go home. <br/></p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>...</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>A lone grave in the Subcon Forest carved into a thick piece of wood sticking out of the ground. Crude lettering and drawings drawn by a little girl who understood nothing.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Joshua </em>
  <em>| Connor</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>ふたりで</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>together.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>